If I Lay Perfectly Still
by Morganna Venus Persephone
Summary: One week after the incident at Croom's Hill that defined the man, Toby Harteveld attempts to regain control of his life and his fantasies. He expected it to be hard; he did not expect to meet Jessica Newman... Implied/actual acts of perverse necrophilia x
1. I'm A Danger To Myself

**_A/N: I thought it only best to warn any readers before they read this. It will be sick, it will be nast__y, and it _****_will be__ unpleasant._**

**_If you've read the book you will know exactly where this fanfic intends to go... If you don't know this book, or the story, I'm warning you now that you may not like what you read here... or perhaps you may find it somewhat arousing, I don't know. But please, either way I hope you enjoy the ride._**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

**I'm A Danger To Myself**

Toby Harteveld; millionaire, socialite, recluse of his own mind, coke addict and heroin junkie. A man who could afford the finest of things, from beautiful women to glistening white lines of purest cocaine and liquid heroin he acquired in abundance, although he never held the massive quantities in this grand house; they were safely hidden in his other residence. Some would say he had issues, some would say he was eccentric, but only he truly knew what kind of man he was. Whether you blamed it on his mother or some other influence was irrelevant, but she had certainly left her impact. With her taunts and insults, the way she yelled, her flesh red and flushed; how the Hell it was possible that she was his mother was beyond him. The years of abuse... he recalled every night, hearing her through the walls, believing deep his gut that she had been in his room, pleasuring herself with frantic, fiery movements. He'd spent years sleeping on his front, never allowing her access to his room, unable to fall asleep until he was sure she was in her own room, far away from his.

Toby Harteveld... He was a man hiding a terrible secret, a deep writhing in his guts that he felt everyday and had done for years... ever since he'd realised exactly what it was he wanted.

A life of privileges had given him many highs, the best things money had to buy, his education being but one of them but with the highs had come the lows and darkest of days. Relief from what he'd discovered about himself came only in the form of class A drugs, but even that could only dull the ache he felt that to this day in this thirty-seventh year, an ache he could not fully understand and dared not try to explain to another human; save one, and how that day still sunk its claws deeper still, that one night he'd chosen to stay behind in the labs at UMDS after they'd shut, the day he'd decided he would finally do what he'd wanted to do as soon as they'd wheeled_ her_ out for examination; and he would've gone ahead with it too, had he not been interrupted… or was he simply beaten to his goal by the other person who was also in the room that night?

The memory itself stung his eyes, he lifted the glass of Pastis to his lips and rubbed his temples to try and relieve the headache that brewed there, the painkillers had had little effect. He could do with another hit, but that would mean finding a new syringe and right now that seemed like too much effort. Instead he placed his smallest finger to his mouth, licking the elongated, pointed nail in the hope that some residue of cocaine was still there.

He sat watching the swarm of people that had attended this evening. A party, just like the one the night before and the one before that too, more a gathering of other socialites, doctors, surgeons, people with money and a smaller collection of random visitors some of whom he didn't even know and female escorts, perhaps one of these fine women could be bought for the evening. Just had to hope they'd listen to his demands.

This was his one final attempt to regain control of his life. Only a week ago, he'd crossed a milestone in his life, one he feared he couldn't go back on, only a week ago an opportunity had been presented to him, almost as if fate had put her there, and in his own bed of all places; like a dream come true, and he'd taken full advantage of the situation, despite how his gut had churned over it afterwards. No, he _had_ to regain control, this was his thing, his own personal demon that all men have in their lives; he _had_ to combat it somehow...

"A bit wild, isn't it?" a small voice said beside him, it made his blood shot eyes dart to the sound which had managed somehow to penetrate through the rest of chorus around him. A girl, possibly in her early to mid twenties he deduced was about to sit next to him on the sofa that matched the leather chair he sat in.

She wasn't talking to him, rather to the girl behind her, "Who exactly was it that invited you again?" she asked as she stirred her vodka and orange with a straw.

"Jake did, he said he knows this guy and we could come along, it's cool Jess, don't bitch about it,"

"This isn't a party though is it, I mean everyone's so fucking high that no one's actually here right now."

He glanced to his side as the girl reclined on the sofa. She wore a black PVC dress, short with a ruffled skirt that only just covered her arse; beneath the ruffles long, white legs descended down to black stilettos, lifting her heels at least five inches off the ground.

"Oh just shut up will you, just be thankful someone took you out for once," The girl who stood wore a tight white top that through the thin material her black bra could be seen, her skirt was by all impossibilities even shorter than her friends. She spun round to scan the crowd of people in the room, her dark brown ponytail swung violently as if she intended to strike someone with it. She turned back to her friend on the sofa, "Now, I'm gonna see if I can find Jake. He said he'd be here. Said he'd introduce me to the guy who owns the place, his name's like, Toby or something shitty like that, bit of a weirdo apparently, but the word is that he'll shoot up for you, inject it in your arm and everything with no pain, great huh?"

"Whatever, I'll stick to the weed thanks," she reached for her small evening bag, also black but satin so it matched the dress without being too tacky.

Toby noticed it immediately: the way she moved. Slow, small movements, a tiny flick of her fingers to open the bag, delicate motions as she removed tobacco, rizlas and a small plastic pouch containing the narcotic.

"Oh please, you're gonna waste your night on that when there's free H and coke in the room?"

"Those are your poisons, not mine."

With that, the girl merged herself into the crowd to find whoever it was who'd invited her.

Toby watched the girl next to him in silence for a while, watched her roll a spliff while smoking a roll up. Every action she took was slow and gentile, not clumsy at all. She seemed almost oblivious to any distraction around her; occasionally she reached for her glass of vodka and orange, taking a small sip and then placing it back on the table. Her skin was very pale, but her makeup was dark around the eyes, her hair a striking shade of black, as if she'd stepped out of a Disney cartoon, unnaturally black for her complexion so he assumed –correctly- that she'd dyed it recently.

"I think your friend should learn some manners," he said softly for he hadn't spoken much today.

"Ha, you're telling me..." she turned to face him, taking in his features for the first time. He was smoking a cigarette, through the haze she could see that his eyes were bloodshot and she wondered just how much he'd already had and what of. His dark hair was longish, but not long enough to be tied back. His shirt unbuttoned at the top revealed the skin of his chest. Attractive... in an odd sort of way she supposed; very pale with striking eyes, a bit underweight perhaps, but it seemed more exaggerated due to his height which was evident already. Some would've called him lanky; she preferred to say lean.

She lit the spliff, taking a deep breath and once again sinking back into the sofa to watch the world go by. She turned to face the guy who'd spoken to her and rested her face on the arm rest. H_e_ had not yet taken his eyes off her, "So, I hear the guy who owns this place is kinda strange,"

"That could be considered an understatement," he said as he smoked.

"I like strange people, so much more fun to be around," she smiled, "They have interesting stories to tell," she took another puff on the spliff and handed it across to him. He took it with a genuine smile, took several long drags one after the other and then gave it back to her, exhaling a long steady jet of smoke as he did.

"I'm Jessica by the way, or Jess if you'd prefer" she extended her hand to him, shaking her head to throw her hair from her face.

He reached across, placing his cigarette in his other hand so that he could extend the correct hand as appropriate, "My name's Toby Harteveld,"

She shook his hand, not realising the name he'd said at first, but as he gripped her fingers in his soft, almost effeminate clutch it dawned on her, "Toby?" she questioned, he smiled in a sly way with only one side of his mouth, "As in, the host...?"

He nodded, noticing the slight tremble in her fingers and how chilled they were.

She giggled and shook her head in shame, "I'm so sorry, oh man, I must seem like a proper idiot, and a rude one at that, really I'm so sorry,"

"No offence taken," he laughed, "I've heard much worse said about me,"

She bit her lip with embarrassment still at how she'd been so rude, hoping to find something to say that could take it away, and luckily for her it presented itself easily, "Well, can I just say, I love what you've done with the place. Seriously, it's lush; the art work in this room alone is to die for,"

"You like it?"

"Well, I wouldn't know if it was a Picasso or Van Gogh or even the difference between them but I know a good piece when I see it,"

Toby raised an eyebrow beneath his long hair, it had been a long time since he'd heard someone pronounce Van Gogh's name correctly by someone who was supposedly interested in art and was both surprised and impressed to hear the right pronunciation.

She looked up above the mantelpiece behind his chair, above it hung a large and imposing painted portrait of a man and woman, it was clear from the features in both their faces that these two people were more than likely Toby's parents, neither of them had given him anything specific but the similarities were there. It had not escaped her attention though that the chair Toby sat in faced away from the portrait. She'd read enough Sherlock Holmes in her lifetime to know that this implied he had no love for them, but at the same time it was still hung there with their eyes watching him. Jess looked at Toby again and smiled. "How did you get so well off?"

"It's largely from inheritance, but I work in pharmaceuticals and that earns a lot of expendable cash,"

"Drugs, huh?" she giggled and Toby couldn't help but smile himself at her observation, "Lucky you. Some of us have to work to afford our drugs. I suppose you've got heaps of the stuff somewhere?"

"Somewhere, yes... but not here,"

"One more question, a really cheesy one I'm afraid. What star sign are you?"

"Sagittarius," He didn't think much of the whole astrology game, but Jessica seemed impressed.

"Yeah, I think I can see that, in your eyes,"

_Her_ eyes were pleasant, a soft grey in colour, boarding almost on green in certain light, not that he cared much for the colour of her eyes, or anyone's for that matter. He could only look at her and see what he wanted to see. _On her back, naked, perhaps covered by a micrapor sheet, her skin drained of colour, upon a stainless steel table..._

He leant forward to her as he put his cigarette out, "Let me ask _you_ a question,"

"Mh-hm...?" she took a slow sip of her drink.

"How wasted are you right now?"

"Um..." she thought for a moment, thought about how much she'd had to drink and the fact that she was on her third spliff of the evening, "Enough that I'm willing to be led astray by an attractive man, but not so wasted that it should play on your conscience,"

A mischievous smile came to Toby's lips and his eyes, "Good, because that's how I'm feeling," he said as he rose to his feet, "Well then, perhaps you'd like to see some other rooms if you'd rather not partake of the drugs, although if you want I could administer them for you. Your friend was right about that, I used to be a doctor."


	2. You Wouldn't Want To Know Me

**Chapter 2**

**You Wouldn't Want To Know Me**

He escorted her to the orangery, away from the noise and bustle of the party. Whether Jess' friend actually did meet up with Jake she didn't discover, but what she found even more amusing was that Toby did not seem to even know anyone named Jake.

He asked if she'd ever tried pastis, to which she shook her head. He explained the beverage to her, letting her take a quick sip of his own that he'd made as they'd left the lounge, she nodded with genuine surprise at the taste and so he'd made one for her too, noticing with a smile as he passed her the glass and their fingers touched fleetingly just how cold her skin was.

The orangery was huge, expanding well out into the gardens of the house, and even the length of it barely made an impact on the vast grounds. It was cooler out here, fresher with the scent of recently bloomed winter flowers. The windows were wet with condensation making them appear crystalline as the moonlight penetrated through the glass. Toby paused as he closed the doors behind him; Jess had stridden in front to admire the orangery in its quiet serenity, placing the half drunk glass of pastis on a table with her evening bag. She was feeling pleasantly lightheaded, she could feel the tingle in her finger tips and had an insatiable urge to dance; she spun around slowly with her arms outstretched like a ballet dancer casting long shadows across the bare, cold floor.

"It's lovely," she danced to the long windows, finding the handles and twisting them to open the doors to the night air, it blew in with a cold chill, but she shuddered excitedly at the sensation. Toby watched her in silence for a moment, taking in the milky whiteness of her legs and arms and the additional skin that could be seen through the exposed laced parts of her dress, criss-crossing across her back and down from the top of the dress under her arms, tracing down, lacing across her skin to her hips.

"Yes, I suppose it is," he watched as her head turned to the left, sniffing the night air as though it held some secret perfume that only she could smell. It gave him a chance to inspect her profile in the soft light, and gave him pause to think how she'd look if her skin were paler, pastier, her hair slicked back and wet against her scalp revealing her face completely. That was what he wanted, and he wanted it now. Should he attempt it tonight; the plan? Should he do a trial run before the real horror began, try to get her to take some smack willingly, directly into the neck, into the brain stem; but the house was full of people... No, Harteveld, control it... She'll do as she is, "Stay here tonight,"

"Excuse me?" she asked as she twisted her neck further to face him.

"Please... I'll pay you, I usually pay two hundred pounds, but for you I'll make it three," It was the same thing he'd said a while back to another young woman who'd come to a party, the first woman who'd ever turned him and his money down, he hadn't approached a woman since then. His confidence had been left shaken and he wondered just how much restraint he actually had on himself; the scratch marks on his neck were still healing but were irritating and itchy.

"Toby, I think you're mistaken, and perhaps it's not surprising considering my attire, but I'm not an escort or a prostitute,"

"Please, I can make it five hundred if you want," he stepped forward and grabbed her arm to bring her closer, "You don't need to move at all, just stay very still,"

"Toby?"

"Just lie still, with your eyes closed, I won't take long, I promise." The anguish in his voice was growing, was it really too much to ask, really? _Just listen to me, don't make me do something I'll regret, please..._

"Toby," she stopped resisting him, instead letting him draw her near, "I didn't mean that, what I meant was, I don't need a price," he stopped pulling her, "I'd... I'd do it for nothing, because I like you,"

"Wha-?"

She looked down and then up again quickly as she licked her suddenly dry lips. Perhaps she was slightly more drunk than she'd realised for she wasn't usually this forward with anyone, let alone men she'd only just met, but something he'd said had caused a very tight ache in her gut, a feeling she'd tried to push aside in recent years but had been unable to. Toby was unaware of this, he had no idea how much he'd given away already with just one sentence, but that one sentence had awoken something deep in her soul, "But... I must ask... Why do you pay? You're an attractive guy, why pay?"He hesitated, her eyes pleaded for an answer which he simply could not give, he couldn't admit to what it was that had driven him both to drug addiction and hiring prostitutes for thrills.

She sensed this, and sighed reluctantly as her eyes fell to the blue floor beneath them, "Ok then, don't say... but promise me one thing..." she swallowed a small lump in her throat before continuing, eyes still on the floor, "Promise me, that I can come back sometime, just hang out with you or whatever. I'd just like to see you again,"

"Believe me, after this... you wouldn't want to see me again,"

At last she looked up, with grey eyes ringed in black eye shadow and eye liner, the iris was edged in thick dark black, it made them look even paler than they should've been, "You sure about that?" she lifted her arm, the one he still had hold off, brought her wrist to her lips slowly and kissed his finger softly. The chill to the wind, combined with the cold of the pastis she'd drunk left her lips oh so cold, beautifully sweet and icy; it struck Toby deep in his gut, his heart...

She wasn't easy; she wasn't normally like this and had only once before in her life ever gone off with a man like this having met him the same night, but she was sure she wanted it, just like she'd wanted it the first time she'd done such an odd and uncharacteristic thing. She was shy normally, but not tonight. Tonight something had been stirred from deep within her, and despite the fact that he wouldn't say what it was he wanted, she wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

She began walking backwards, away from him into the gardens beyond with their stone benches and well manicured lawns and hedges, into the moonlit night, "You want me to stay still? Perfectly still?"

He nodded as he watched her in awe. She rose her arms, placing them behind her back and he heard the tell tale sound of a zipper being undone, "I assume then, that you'd like me to be... cold?"

Again he nodded.

"No movement. No resistance. No… response…?" she didn't take her eyes off him as she slid the material off her shoulders, every word flowing effortlessly from her lips, without question, as though such requests were as natural as the green of grass.

He couldn't even bring himself to blink as the dress fell, revealing more flesh, her skin a pale blue in the hue. The dress slipped off her hips, falling in a casual pile around her feet, but she did not stop there. Her cherry red bra, edged with black lacing and small bows followed, landing on her toes and she kicked it away with no haste and together they stood. Toby Harteveld and Jessica Newman, no more than five feet between them, intensity in both their eyes, his breaths heavy, hers soft and small, silence and darkness surrounding them. A barrage of silent questions flitted between them, from Toby especially... what was she doing? What did she mean?

"What else do you want?"

For a moment he couldn't even speak, nor comprehend any words at all, but he knew exactly what he wanted and his lips trembled before he could say the next sentence, he wished he had some more coke he could at least rub into his gums, "Wet your hair," he ordered.

She looked around; taking note of the glass she'd left on the table. She took a single ice cube between her long fingers and held it in her palm before using both hands to wipe the melted water from the front to the back of her hair, making it damp enough at the front to slide it off her face entirely. Now she was ready, and she knew it from the look in his eyes. Softly she turned away and walked to a stone bench, where upon she lay, pristine and white on her back, clothed only with a red and black thong and black stiletto heels. Her eyes closed slowly without looking at him, and she simply lay there, hardly breathing.

And there it was, the tight sensation he felt in his gut. It wasn't perfect but for God's sake it was close enough, the closest he'd been since... Sharon... He wasted no time, tearing off his shirt without unbuttoning it. He lay on top of her, simply staring for what seemed like a long time, amazed at her performance, she held her breath effortlessly even when he placed the back of his hand to her lips –common practise to check if someone was breathing- and then when delicate motions he teased an eyelid open… he gasped excitedly, her eyes were white, she'd rolled them back for him, without having to be asked, and it stirred him further. The others girls had complained about it, saying that it was uncomfortable and gave them headaches while he told them to just shut the fuck up and keep still. She kept them open, just as the dead would.

His lips graced her cold ones and they only moved with the pressure he exerted on them. His tongue slid gently into her mouth, past the gap between rows of teeth and from there he had no control over his urges when his tongue finally met hers. Toby hadn't noticed her place what remained of the ice cube in her mouth before she'd laid down; it had melted now, but had left her mouth deathly cold, just as he wanted it.

Jess kept very still, resisting every urge in her body that told her to move, to spread her legs or to kiss him back. She only let out a small breath when Toby moved away from her face; he started to kiss her bare flesh, licking it between kisses as he descended lower, leaving wet shiny trails of saliva on her white, unmoving skin. Down lower, past her hips and lower still. By now his legs were knelt on the ground beneath him and with the advantageous position it was he who spread Jess' legs for her.

A hot rush of blood came to her cheeks when she felt him there, but she tried not to twitch with enjoyment at the sensations of his tongue exploring her.

_Twice in one lifetime?_ She thought silently as a small smile spread on her lips, _I must be lucky…_

Only one other man had gone down on her without needing to asked or encouraged, but this was different…

Jack Caffery had been dominating, controlling and constantly horny when he was home and his mind on things other than his work. He had been her first real boyfriend, although fourteen years her senior back when she was eighteen and perhaps naivety on her part was to blame for their relationship ending in failure, naivety for the scale of what she'd gotten herself involved in.

It had been five years since she's last slept with Jack, four years since she'd last seen him… with his new girlfriend, it had taken Jessica only five seconds to conclude that she wasn't right for him… and Jess seriously doubted if any woman ever would be… Since then Jess had refrained from dating much, her confidence in dealing with people in general had been shot down by Jack's cold nature; he was not a bad man, far from it, he was decent and good, but consumed by his past; and she could not help him.

That was why she didn't go out much anymore; her faith in herself shattered. That was why her best friend had become so infuriated with her lack of adventurous spirit that she'd dragged Jess out tonight wearing the sluttiest thing she could find in her wardrobe after a few vodkas and a couple of spliffs.

Oh he would've hated this though, this lack of response. She had always been quiet and sex was no exception. The first time Jack had gone down on her he kept stopping to ask if everything was ok because she barely responded; little did he know that everything was perfect for her. She'd learnt early on to be more vocal in their lovemaking as it made him happy. He'd complained the first couple of times that it was 'like fucking a corpse', but he'd had a fondness for her cold hands, or the 'icy touch of death' as he'd jokingly called it.

She had no idea why she'd never told him, but Jessica was a virgin when he'd taken her to his bed the first time.

Now she could be as still as she wanted and more, but even that was hard now because of how Toby's tongue continued to flick and dart inside her, lifting her hips up and pulling her closer. He had complete control over her and moved her to his will, spreading her legs wider as he rose and placed himself between them, fidgeting with his belt and trousers awkwardly as he did, he was so hard already, he was so ready for her. It was just as she'd always wished it could be; she only had to enjoy the experience, still and quiet.

Her performance was startling, already Toby had had to remind himself that the girl still had a beating heart, the only thing that gave it away for him other than the very occasional rise and fall of her chest, was the warmth of her, the only part of her that felt warm, alive and responsive, and now that surrounded him. His movements were slow at first, he simply looked down at her as she received him without so much as a flicker of her eyelids; she was good, too good. How could she possibly know? What was she getting out of this? He soon realised though that he didn't particularly care what she got out of it so long as she was willing to keep her eyes rolled back in her head.

He couldn't begin to explain it, he only knew that this was what he wanted, it was as close as he was going to get to the real thing, and despite the warmth and suppleness of her muscles that encircled him the rest of her act was convincing enough that he leant down to her lips and bit the bottom one, she did not stir.

Normally he didn't take long, but she was willing and didn't complain, so he took his time with this one, lifting his head occasionally to look across the gardens, through the windows of the house into the lounge where they'd met. People crossed across the panes of glass, but no one noticed them upon the stone bench, her unmoving, him driving his hips with even more force against her. He wondered how it looked; did it look authentic from a distance? It would've been clear what they were up to, but would it have been clear what was going through his mind? What fantasy he was indulging in with her?

The movements became quicker and more furious, taking hold of her legs and wrapping them around himself, kissing her still lips and limp tongue.

All this time, she fought against anything Jack had told her about putting more life into it. For once, someone appreciated her stillness, while in her mind she screamed for him to fuck her, for him to be rougher and use her as if she were a doll.

As if he could hear her mental screams of ecstasy, he obeyed, getting closer to his peak, not caring if she reached hers... He could fuck her as long as he wanted, in any position, as hard as he wanted, and she would not object to it or push him away, she would be still, receiving and unresponsive. He growled, forcing himself as deep as he would go within her tight muscles until he could hold on no longer. But instead of coming inside her he stopped and withdrew, thinking that as she'd been so accommodating already that perhaps she would continue to be so if he did something new.

And beautifully, she kept up the facade as he moved above her, allowing him to gain access to her mouth and this was the _only_ time she ever moved, positioning her tongue against him, coiling it around him and that was how it stayed. He held her head up by gripping her hair and proceeded to pleasure himself inside her mouth until he came with a low growl, a single bead of sweat falling from his forehead, his teeth bared in satisfaction.

It was now, in this awkward position that they were interrupted.

"Jess? Where the fuck are you?"

The illusion she'd created was shattered there and then at the recognition of the voice for her eyes grew wide and her body shuddered.

Both of them jumped, Jess throwing herself off the bench and hiding behind it, spitting out the evidence onto the stone slabs beneath her, Toby standing straight and sorting out what clothing he still wore before he turned to face who it was that had interrupted them.

"Hey? You haven't seen my mate have you? Dark hair, dressed in a PVC number? Usually hangs about in the corner looking like an idiot?" she asked him rudely, as she barged through the orangery, caring little for the fact that she was intruding. Had she thought to actually look down she'd have seen the dress she was referring to at her feet.

"Get out!" Toby shouted at her.

This startled her, "Hey, don't fucking yell at me, I'm just looking for someone, it's not my fault you forgot to get dressed today,"

"I said, get out! I didn't fucking invite you! Get out of here, you're not welcome," he lurched forward, "You come here, you snort my coke, inject my heroin without so much as a thank you, you get the fuck out of my house, now!"

She raised her hands defensively and backed away, "Okay, okay, Jesus Christ relax will you! I'm going… Bloody Hell have a fucking wank and chill out already!"

As she left she turned round again, "This place is fucking dead anyway!" she slammed the door behind her.

Jessica gingerly pulled herself from her hiding place; keeping her gaze on Toby at all times as she snuck closer to grab her dress from the floor and hold it against herself to hide her modesty, "I'm sorry about her, she can be a cow sometimes, especially when she's high,"

He sighed, "Just go…" he managed as a lump caught in his throat. He scratched the back of his neck with long nails and avoided her eyes, already he could feel the sickening sensation rising from his gut. He expected her to run past him without saying anything, just like the others had done, they never spoke to him afterwards, just left hurriedly, taking their cash and vanishing into the night as disgusted with themselves as he was. At least there was some satisfaction in knowing that he'd managed to successfully have sex with a living woman... but it was still a very empty feeling.

She chewed her tongue a little before she spoke, "…kay… ummm… so, do you want my number or was this a one off?"

He turned, perplexed at her question, "Seriously?"

"Well, I meant what I said earlier, unless you'd rather not," she started to get back into her clothes.

Toby found himself confounded by this gesture.

She shrugged her shoulders in resignation as she finished zipping up the dress, "Well, whatever then," she picked up her bag from the table, took out a roll up she'd prepared earlier and lit it, "Thanks anyway. I'd better go before Madam Coke Fiend gets herself run over by a bus or something," she rocked back on her heels once before walking past, "It was nice knowing you,"

Toby moved quickly at the last minute, grabbing her firmly by the arm and twisting her back to him, her skin illuminated by the moonlight, her eyes reflecting the pale glow, "If you come back, would you do it again?"

She calmly placed her cigarette to her lips and inhaled, when she spoke clouds of smoke drifted past her face as though she were breathing fire, "You mean, will I fuck you again?"

"Yes- I mean… I…" he stuttered, still trembling over the fact that she was offering him another go.

She giggled at his awkward display but not out of spite, she found his inadequacy in speaking to her very cute, in complete contrast to the way he'd approached her in the living room, "Come back tomorrow?" he asked at last as if he'd simply run out of words.

She bit her lip, not expecting him to suggest so soon a meeting, her eyes dropped then flitted around the glass room in deep thought. He gripped her arm tighter which brought her bright shining eyes back to him, "Please?"

"Will you let me go if I say yes?"

Toby only nodded in response.

"Then it's a date. May I have my arm back now?" he released her quickly, as if he hadn't even realised he was holding her at all, "Unless you'd prefer me to look like a beaten corpse next time..." she warned as she inspected the red marks above her elbow.

Again, he was dumbstruck and his jaw dropped; she'd actually used that word... Oh Jesus, how much did she know?

"It's ok," she said at as she offered him another cigarette from her bag and lit it for him, she grinned when he took it with trembling hands.

He smoked ferociously, "I need another hit..." he said finally.

"I'll leave you to it then and come back tomorrow. Shall we say eight?"

She left then, heading off after her friend as quickly as she could, calling out her name as she went in the hope that with the vast expanse of the house and the dope she'd already had that her friend had not yet found her way out of the place yet. Toby was left in the orangery, bare chested and trembling still.


	3. Things I Never Told You

They'd met randomly one evening, Caffery out down the local with colleagues from work. Another case solved and that alone was worth celebrating. Jessica had been out with friends for her eighteenth birthday, legally old enough to drink and they were ordering it by the shot.

She'd been so sure of herself, wearing a short, dark denim skirt, high heels and a cropped, black t-shirt with the words 'Porn Star in Training' written across the front. Her heels matched the top, her hair matched the skirt.

He hadn't been sure at first as he watched her approach the bar, but then he spotted the passport she was holding to proudly verify her age, it was then that Jack had made his move and bought her a drink. Her friends had whooped and whistled as he'd approached her.

He'd stood at the bar with her, joking and chatting. He asked to see her passport when she said it was her birthday. At first she'd refused.

"Hell no, I look hideous,"

"Name me one person who looks good in a passport photo, come on,"

Reluctantly she'd handed it over and Caffery had inspected it closely, "What would you say if I told you I can tell this is fake?" he joked.

She snatched it back, "I'd say you need to get your eyes checked, got my birth certificate in here to prove it too!"

"Good answer," he smiled at her... Oh God that smile, he rarely smiled but when he did it sent a pleasant shiver up her spine, "Sometimes people can give themselves away just with the hint that they've been caught,"

"So what are you then? Police?"

Again he smirked and reached for his top pocket where he removed his warrant card to show her, not just the police, a detective inspector... seeing it in her hands she nearly fainted, but quickly regained her composure, "What would you say if I told you this was a fake?" she giggled, and Caffery appreciated the humour in her turning the joke back at him.

Never a shy man, he'd invited her back to his place that same night after she'd consumed two more straight shots of vodka. He was not one to take advantage of young girls under the influence, especially not in his profession so he'd made sure with very subtle techniques that she was still sober enough to be consensual before he let her into his house. Once inside, he'd rolled her a cigarette, poured her a glass of wine and sat with her on the sofa, where he gradually began to move his hand slowly up her thigh…

He'd complained about previous girlfriends in his life, how they'd tried time and time again to coax him away from what had become something of an obsession for him. Jess in response to this had simply given him space when she felt he needed it, thinking he would come and speak to her when he felt he was able to, she never pushed him to talk to her about the disappearance of his younger brother when they were children, neither did she prise his fingers from the wire fence as he'd stare across the railway track to the garden opposite, to the known paedophile he'd always known was responsible but had no proof to convict him. It tore him up inside, being a DI for the Met it infuriated him that he'd found nothing, not even after years of what some would call 'spying' on the old man had he uncovered anything concrete, and yet he continued to be pulled into the wicked games the old man played.

Jessica couldn't begin to understand that sort of turmoil, and knew better than to think she could empathise in any way, hence why she left him to ponder his thoughts when he needed to.

Those dark moments would not last the whole day, and when Jack had calmed down –drunk a glass or two of Glenmorangie- he was back to himself, with that wickedly horny look in his eyes.

The sex had been wild, amazing even. He was man who knew what he liked, and he liked a woman who moaned, squirmed, wrapped her legs around him tightly, clawed his back in ecstasy and bit him just as he would do to her. So, stillness was not a favoured technique...

Jessica smoked a cigarette over a cup of tea while she waited for her friend to wake up from her atrocious hangover. She wore the t-short she'd slept in and not much else. Her mobile sat limply in her hands on the contact list, it baffled her why she'd kept Jack's number all these years, maybe she expected that one day he'd ring her out of the blue and ask how she was, but she knew that was a fantasy, he'd more than likely deleted her number as soon as the new girlfriend came into the picture. Was he still with her? He was a fool if he was; a small part of Jess felt very smug about that.

She wasn't sure what had made her look for his number; she just felt a need to do it. Perhaps it had something to do with last night; she'd actually been able to be herself last night... Jack was the first person to try and convince her to change, little realising what he was asking her to do.

Even now she questioned herself though, should she have told Jack just how much he'd meant to her? Should she have been braver that first night and just _told_ him that she was a virgin? Would that have changed anything? She'd always thought she was a good listener, sometimes people came to her with secrets to tell, people she'd only just met had within minutes revealed deep secrets about their drug use and past difficult relationships; but Jack had been silent with her, perhaps he felt she was too young to understand the complexities of how he felt, perhaps he thought she couldn't relate because she was an only child... Perhaps now was the time for Jessica Newman to call Jack Caffery, maybe now was the time for her to reveal at long last just how much she _did_ understand and could give him another perspective.

"Ah, bollocks, my head!"

The shrillness of the cry startled Jess back to the breakfast table with her tea and a now dead cigarette.

"Awake are we?" she asked sarcastically down the corridor as she switched the kettle on again.

"Don't be sarky with me, my head feels like it's gonna break!" the other girl came into the living room, she had difficulty walking in a straight line and slumped down on the bar stool in the kitchen and fell onto the table, her arms covering her head.

Jessica made a cup of coffee and pushed a packet of ibuprofen across to her, "Don't say I didn't warn you,"

The girl didn't answer, instead reaching blindly for the painkillers, giving Jess a two-fingered salute in return; she was still dressed in last nights clothes, her hair a mess., "So what the fuck happened to you last night? I was searching that whole fucking place looking for you, got proper bollocked at by some dickhead for it,"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have been in places you shouldn't've,"

Jess passed her a cigarette and relit her own and they both sat at the breakfast table. Both smoked in silence for a while as the painkillers set in and the caffeine was slowly administered to the bloodstream in place of heroin.

"So, where were you anyway?" at last she looked up to see Jess's eyes glinting and her cheeks bright pink with blushing, "You got laid last night didn't you?"

"Is it really that obvious?"

"Hell yes, but wait there's something more... no, don't tell me..." she stared intently at Jess' eyes trying to decipher the enigma behind them, her own were bloodshot and seemed to swim in their sockets, "Bloody Hell, he went down on you, didn't he?"

"How _do _you _do_ that?" she asked with genuine awe.

The other chuckled to herself and refused to answer the question, "So who was it?" she asked as she took a sip of coffee.

"Toby Harteveld..."

She slipped and the cup nearly fell from her fingers, she spat her coffee back into the cup, "You're having me on, aren't you?" her eyes now looked set to shoot right out of her head, "The jammy tosser who owns that fucking great house?" It would appear that she'd clearly forgotten who exactly it was that had given her a 'proper bollocking' last night.

"That 'jammy tosser' only asked me back there tonight,"

Both hands now lay flat on the table to steady herself from the impact of this, "You going back?" Jess nodded once, "I'm jealous... He must've had a fucking _huge_ cock if you're going back; bigger than Jack's?"

"That's none of your business," she said as she rose from the table, taking her empty cup to the sink as she did.

"That's a yes, then," her friend giggled as she attempted again to sip her coffee, pushing her brown hair back behind her ear.


	4. In Isolation

**Chapter 4**

**In Isolation**

Impatiently he paced the floor of the lounge, hoping upon hope that she would be here soon. It was only seven in the evening but his pulse was racing. The first time he'd been alone with a woman in a long time, years perhaps, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly alone with a living woman. His fists clenched and relaxed repeatedly, his teeth ground together. He'd been considering the possibility for hours; he _could_ do it, very simply, there was no one here now.

He looked up at the portrait of his parents, giving his mother, Lucilla a foul look of repugnance. He hated the way she looked at him from the portrait, just like she always had done, _Bitch..._ He turned away from her persistently disapproving eyes, _Fuck it,_ he thought as he went to the drinks cabinet. He looked behind an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels and Baileys –the girls always liked sweet drinks-, behind it lay a selection of syringes and the heroin he'd prepared for himself earlier. He'd wanted to be sober for this, but the dread of what was coming drained on his soul. He took what he needed from the cabinet, went to his chair, applied a tourniquet with an old tie of his, holding it tight with his teeth until the veins which were already prominent pushed themselves up beneath his skin even more. He tapped the vein impatiently. Fuck 'skin popping', he was a 'mainliner', directly into the bloodstream, a much stronger hit and almost instantaneous. It would last him; he only needed the half hour it promised, a half hour to keep his mind off things, off Jess.

He injected himself and smiled as he slumped into the leather of the chair. His own technique astounded even him, it was painless as usual; no wonder people asked him to do it for them. It was a warm feeling, it tingled over every inch of his body making him smile and laugh inappropriately, no other feeling like it in the world, like dreaming a pleasant dream, floating on a cloud, eating heaps of ice cream drizzled in many flavours, while having the most fantastic sex all at the same time. It made him salivate excessively. His back arched from a sensation very similar to an orgasm descended through his spine, and with it came the intense urge to masturbate, although right now that would be too much hard work.

The doorbell rang, but Toby in his daze hardly noticed it, he was too interested in the colours as they danced before his eyes.

The housemaid answered the door; she was already aware that the man of the house was enjoying his own pleasures and chose not to disturb him right now.

He could hear two female voices from the lounge, but not what was said and that hardly mattered right now.

"Mr Harteveld?" he rose his head from his relaxed position, "There's young lady at the door for you, says she's expected?"

He laughed, not quite sure why he laughed but he did anyway, "Send her in..." he continued to giggle as he settled himself into the leather chair again, bringing his legs up to his chest to hug them. The next voice he heard was hers.

"Oh dear," she said sarcastically, "I suppose I should've expected this,"

He turned to face her, pulling himself across the arm of the chair, his hair hanging in his eyes, a massive grin on his face, "I feel fucking fantastic... You should try some,"

"No thanks, I brought some weed though,"

He giggled again, this time he knew why though and struggled to pull himself out of the chair, "Can you help me get to a sink?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to throw up..." he smirked like a naughty little boy.

She supported him through the corridors with his arm over her shoulders while he gave directions as they went.

He vomited excessively but Jessica was used to this spectacle, she'd seen this many times in the past.

"What time is it?" he asked her as he spat bile from his mouth and then rinsed his face with cold water.

"You're wearing a watch," she pointed out.

"I'm too fucked to read that..."

"It's about eight-ish,"

"Oh sweet Jesus, that was a good hit!"

"Yes, you're really selling it to me right now, what with all the puking." She began making herself a spliff.

Toby splashed water around his neck, soaking his collar and it was only now that he looked at Jessica and actually registered her presence.

"You came?"

"I said I would," she lit her spliff and inhaled deeply, her hair was held in place by a loose clip at the back of her skull, a few strands fell forward in a casual manner. So small, petite, so vulnerable, so open to suggestion...

_Now, focus..._ he told himself, _Remember what you're supposed to do, offer her the heroin, get her to take some, just enough to dope her up, then suggest an alternative , it'll work, it'll all be over in seconds and it'll be done..._

"I can't stay long Toby, I've got work tomorrow, and my mate's going out tonight so I need to be home before her,"

Anxiety gripped him and made him hold the sink for support, "She knows you're here?"

"I'm not an idiot!" she remarked defensively, "I don't care who you are or how much money you make, I'm not going to come to some stranger's house and not tell anyone where I am,"

"No, no, of course not," he turned away from her and silently mouthed an exploitive, _Well, what the fuck do you do now? Someone knows she's here... She has arrangements tomorrow, she'll be missed, someone will notice..._ He should've thought this through.

He glanced back at her, as the moon was revealed from behind a cloud and the soft light flooded the kitchen, where she sat at the table, gently smoking and watching him with large eyes, oh God, her makeup... was it intentional? Her eyes were ringed in black eye shadow, just enough to make the orbs look sunken, her lips had a delicate blue sheen to them, everything made her skin look whiter; the realisation of how she looked startled him, as if she'd ceased breathing since yesterday and had simply appeared at his house.

"You... you look..." there was no other word for it though, "Beautiful..."

Jessica rose from the stool and slowly began walking over to him, she neither smiled nor frowned at his compliment, made her way gracefully to him; the summer dress she wore was completely out of place on such a cold evening, again she wore incredible five inch stiletto heels. She handed him the spliff, but leant close to him to whisper in his ear, "I'm sure I'll look better once I've cooled down, don't you agree?" she checked her watch, "How long should I stand outside? Five minutes? Ten?"

Toby nearly dropped the spliff from his fingers. He was going to ask her to do this; it was what he asked the hookers to do, stand outside in the cold until their lips were blue.

They fucking hated it, one had tried to get back inside too soon and he'd been forced to lock the doors on her and watch her shivering in the cold, she'd started to cry when the rain began to come down, but he had no choice.

"Sta... Outside?" he queried, just in case he'd misheard what she'd said.

"Yeah?" she answered as though her question were a perfectly normal one, "How long does it take to reach the optimum temperature?"

Her words scared him, but not as much as her calm demeanour, it was like she could read his mind, see everything he wanted already... but how the fuck could she know this about him... How?

"We both know what we want; you made that quite clear yesterday, and I would not have done what I did had I not wanted the same thing" she edged herself towards him and even with her heels on she had to stand on tiptoes, her voice a soft, velvety whisper in his ears, "I can be as still and as quiet as you want, and I won't object to anything, would you like put me to the test?"

He was sure his legs were going to buckle out from under him at any second, but he held tightly to the worktop, "Ten minutes… Or until your lips turn blue,"

"Alright, I'll wait for you to come and get me, I'll be waiting…"

The dead don't object to anything though, "What precautions have you taken? I never use any-"

"You don't need to worry about that, I'm on the pill."

Those ten minutes felt like the longest of his life, he debated with himself throughout the duration as he prepared the heroin, just how far was he prepared to go? Did he really believe he could go through with this? _Just get it over with, short and sweet; she won't even know what's happening…_ He could easily lie if anyone came looking for her, he could say he hadn't seen her since last night.

It only took a few minutes to get the drug ready, fill up the syringe, release any air left inside and place the cap back on the needle. He pocketed it, resisting the urge to inject himself again, he was likely to overdose at this rate, he had to keep it together, keep steady, a steady hand was required to find the brain stem.

He checked his watch for the hundredth time, only five minutes had passed. He made himself a drink, pastis again but stronger this time and went to the orangery where he leant with one arm up against the glass to watch her outside in the cold December night.

Jessica was sitting on the same bench they'd had sex on yesterday, her eyes closed, her hands pressing on the stone, a cold breeze blowing her hair across her face making it stick to the sheen lip gloss.

She was resisting the urge to allow her teeth to chatter, knowing that doing so would spoil everything. She was tense with anticipation, _Calm down, it's ok... He knows, he knows and he's fine about it, now relax. You won't be convincing if you're tense..._

She took a deep breath, and another, expanding her lungs ready to hold her breath when the time came. She thought back to her younger teenage years, back to before she'd realised that her fantasies were not just a passing phase.

She liked being still and silent, she'd realised it after the first time they'd touched her.

She remembered lying in a bed trying to keep still, if she kept still no one came. The others had soon grown bored of touching her; they demanded a better response, an adult response.

She remembered crying when they'd touched her, she could recall with vivid clarity the way they'd surrounded her and made her kneel on her small knees, how she'd cried at the man holding the camera, pleading with him that she didn't want to do it, that she didn't like it. They'd laughed at her, one of them had stepped forward and kicked her in the stomach while another demanded she 'shut up and put it in her mouth'... Afterwards she wished she was dead, she wished it so hard, until her tears had run dry, she prayed that she could die in that moment, wished and wished so hard that she was dead, she'd prayed to God that if He truly loved her as her mother had always promised that he would kill her now, that He would come and take her to Heaven; and then they'd come back to do it again. This time she kept still and suppressed all sounds, pretending that her heart had ceased beating and all they were touching was her cold corpse.

She was eleven years old and had known the touch of a man, only the touch... that was why they were never caught... no DNA... no evidence.

It was better after that; they didn't come back so often, and when they did it was over soon, no matter how they tried to stir a response from her, and when they'd finally tired of her lack of response they'd let her go, or rather they'd pushed her from the car while it was still moving.

She'd escaped their clutches and after years of psychiatric care, reliving the experience over and over again until it meant nothing she managed to return to normality. But she'd been unable to let go of the pleasant feeling the facade of death had left on her mind.

For years afterwards she'd researched, developed and perfected her technique, learning to apply makeup in the right places, the different stages of rigor mortis and how it affected the flexibility of the muscles, how to hold her breath for minutes at a time comfortably, breathing so very slowly between breaths that it was hardly noticeable, everything one would need to know how to pull off such an act convincingly; only two things had eluded her... the first being the smell. But what with her current job and a few well named contacts she was certain she could obtain exactly what she needed in time.

The only other missing piece was a partner... until yesterday.

Oh yes, she knew _exactly _what Harteveld wanted; and in her mind there was no other living woman on this earth who could give it to him and no other man who would give her the same thing.

Not long now, time to start acting...

Toby opened the doors of the orangery and beckoned her with a flick of his hair, they didn't speak, just went straight up to his immaculate bedroom.

He instructed her to lie down on the bed and close her eyes; the windows were open, blowing the cold night air against the curtains, it had made the satin sheets icy to the touch.

Jessica did as he told her, only asking if he wanted her facing up or down to which he answered, "Face down," it would be simpler to administer the dose if she wasn't looking at him. He gripped the syringe tightly, popping the cap off with ease.

He could lie, he could say she never made it to his house, in fact he could say he'd never even heard of her… No… what if the police got involved? What would he do if they began an investigation? Would they get a warrant and demand to search the house? And then what? They'd find a body, not just a body but a body that had been well and truly fucked over and over again. Would they discover the connection? Sharon? Would her body be discovered too?

His hands were trembling, his throat dry, his breaths rapid. _I can't do it… I can't... I can't… It was an accident before; it was her own fault… I…_ he lifted his eyes from the needle he held in his shaking fingers and clasped his hand to his mouth as if that would stop the tears, and then he spotted her, her arms splayed out across the bed, face down, her body as still as marble.

Toby's hand dropped from his mouth in shock; he'd forgotten just how much of a good performance she gave…

He placed the syringe on the bedside table, his heart pounding against his ribs hard, he gave her a gentle nudge, and another, then he turned her over. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes rolled back and her skin so pale in the moonlight. She didn't move, she barely breathed, didn't even swallow as he sat astride her stomach and gazed into her vacant pupils.

Beneath the thin fabric of her summer dress, her skin was cold and firm, just the right temperature, but it wouldn't be long before she warmed up.

_How far would you go?_ He asked himself as he pulled open her lips with his long fingers, _How far would _she_ go?_

The dead don't object to anything, no matter how you poked, probed or insulted them… they responded to nothing. Intrigue filled his mind at the possibilities, and there was only one thing he could think of that might stir her out of it entirely.

"Just how good are you?" he asked, his lips curling back, his tongue rolling inside his mouth. She gave no response. He spat at her face with a harsh force that screamed contempt, his spit hit her just beneath the eye. Jessica neither flinched nor blinked, she lie as still as stone.

A small whimper came from Toby's lips, "Oh you're too good..." he began to unbuckle his belt and unzipped his fly, "You're too fucking good..." he laughed, "You want to be put to the test? Okay then, let's see how good you are..."

Toby Harteveld, of all the men in the world, _he_ would know _exactly_ how perfect her act was.


	5. I'm So Empty

**Chapter 5**

**I'm So Empty**

This wasn't at all like it had been the first time; he'd felt awkward the first time, unsure of what he should do.

He'd lost his virginity aged fourteen to that pretty young thing, Sophie and since then had plenty of experience with women –although none of them were romantically involved with him in any other way besides sexually. He was an awkward soul, inept in social situations; he'd never really asked a woman out in his life. But to actually touch the dead, to feel their coldness, their lack of movement... everything... everything was different.

It had been a different experience entirely with Sharon. Sharon had been overweight and not exactly an attractive girl, a Glasgow street child... too used to cheap smack to deal with his pure H, her system collapsed under the purity; and Toby was given an opportunity he'd never had before, that he'd stumbled through out of desire .

This time it was different. Jessica was pretty, small and flexible, easily manoeuvred into bizarre positions or rolled over. Occasionally he bit her, and several times he smacked her hard across the face with the back of his hand. He'd spat at her another three times simply to watch how she didn't react when he did.

He moved her to his will, taking his time; her body was so relaxed, like a rag doll. He didn't touch or tease her for the dead don't require foreplay... so he simply pushed himself into her slowly, not out of respect nor her comfort, only so he could feel every tiny flutter of her muscles if they occurred, but aside from a slight tightening with the first thrust – which could've been his own movement- there were no other contractions to feel. Perfect...

She wanted to be put to the test, and what better one was there than Harteveld, the man who'd dreamt of nothing else for as long as he could remember. The possibilities, the fantasies; they fuelled him and this time, he would not be awkward and clumsy, he would use her to his full ability.

Her skin retained the cold, her nipples erect and proud for his eager tongue to tease as he brought her legs around him, her thighs were cold, her firm stomach chilled, her breasts beautifully pert white mounds, but beneath them, a heartbeat raged with desire... Toby's hand flinched away from her breast almost as soon as he grasped it, her pulse shooting through his fingers like an electric shock, and he knew that this would not do at all.

Jessica did move occasionally, clenching her fists tightly when Toby rolled her onto them, she bit her lips when he mounted her from behind. Her only movements came when she was sure he couldn't see them.

He'd never truly been able to understand what the attraction was. It was not just a physical attraction to the dead, for if that were the case then he'd have kept the last one, if that were the reason then he wouldn't wash himself of the experience and feel that sense of self disgust. He was not at all like the only other person he knew who shared this fetish. It was deeper than that. It was their stillness and their silence that appealed so much. He could look them in the eye knowing that they neither judged nor were repulsed by his actions, they were unrejecting, calm and voiceless... so very much unlike his mother in so many ways...

When at last he climaxed, he made a point of withdrawing and rolling her onto her back again so he could come across her pale face and partially open lips.

But Toby was not finished with her yet... not yet... The simple fact that Jessica remained in her death pose suggested that he still had time left.

Like a man possessed, he crawled off the bed, his legs were trembling making the thought of walking a scary one. He crawled across the room to the low mahogany table, upon which an ivory box was placed decoratively in the centre. He opened it, the inside was lacquered and dark, a stark and beautiful contrast to the glistening white shine of the cocaine it held. Very quickly, moving his hair out of his eyes to see better in the darkness, he used the silver spoon that lay next to the box to draw himself a perfect small line across the dark wood. The substance was easily snorted in an instant, the line gone in less than two seconds.

Jess lifted her head to watch him, licking her lips to taste his seed upon them; it tasted good. She would tell him so when this was over. But now, she rested her head back on the pillow, knowing full well that he wasn't done with her, she knew exactly what he was doing and what it meant, what the cocaine would do to him... Jack Caffery didn't need cocaine to achieve the same result... but he wasn't here now.

The hit was intense and strong, but didn't cause a nosebleed as it had done in the past. Toby's fists clenched momentarily waiting for the full effect to hit him, and while he waited he began to stroke himself.

It only took a moment, barely even a full minute, and it hit hard, his eyes glinted and became wide, he felt his muscles and veins pulsated with energy. His pupils dilated, his mouth dried, his heartbeat raced furiously within the confines of his ribcage and by Christ he felt _alive_... Now, right now, in this moment he could take on the world and win, he could do anything, accomplish the impossible, go to any lengths... fuck her again... Oh God, yes, he could fuck her again, harder, longer.

And he did.

The smiles were hard to conceal, but not as hard the tightening of her muscles, but it would appear that with the energy and vigour of Toby's own movements he was barely aware of hers. It pleased Jess immensely when this time he didn't turn her over and instead looked down at her face while he took her and held her breasts tightly. Even with her eyes rolled back she could still just about see him, leering down at her with eyes that burned with perversity, and she loved it... she loved how he looked at her, how he handled her, groped her, felt her, bit, licked and spat at her. He looked at her like she was nothing, basic flesh, like a true dead thing.

_Don't move, don't you dare fucking move..._ It was stupid, idiotic even for he knew there had to be a catch in this somewhere, no one was like this, no one did this for nothing, so what was her price? Fuck it though, he'd find out soon enough, but right now...

With a harsh cry he again withdrew and finished himself off over her torso, curling his lips and keeping his free hand clasped to her right breast, where the heartbeat felt weaker, it was so good it was almost painful.

He nearly fell upon her, but stopped himself, instead pushing himself aside and collapsing onto his back upon the silky sheets. With no hesitation he reached for a cigarette and lit it. He was panting heavily and his hands trembled. He didn't look at Jessica for a long while, all he could focus on was his own breaths and the way the smoke swam towards the open window.

She didn't move... Her eyes remained unblinking...

"You can stop now…" he said at last between heavy breaths. He'd hate to admit it to her, but he'd adored the way she'd stayed still even after he'd finished with her.

Jess slowly sat up, licking her lips as she did. Toby who still could not look at her, offered her a cigarette.

"What do you know about me?"

"Sorry?"

"Don't play dumb, you know exactly what I mean. The makeup; rolling your eyes back; you even hold your breath for Christ's sake, now don't lie to me…"

She took a slow and determined drag on her cigarette. Her eyes remained fixed before her, not focusing on anything in particular besides the glowing embers at the end of the white stick in her fingers, "If you're hoping to get my life story then you're out of luck, it's too long and too sad. You asked me to lie still and that's what I did, but don't sit there in the opinion that I'm somehow doing this for _your_ enjoyment, cos it's not, it's for mine."

The short silence that followed felt surreal.

"Look, I won't go into my reasons why, but I just like to play dead, and I have done for years, ever since I reached two conclusions about life. The first being that mothers lie, the second that God is dead,"

It was said with such a matter-of-fact tone that it made Toby uncomfortable, he could feel the individual muscles in his neck moving as he swallowed his own sense of unease, "Unfortunately, guys don't like it much, they want you to contribute and participate, like they can't imagine you're enjoying yourself unless you're moaning and screaming and wiggling about. Some guys even seem to think you're questioning their performance…"

He hadn't expected that answer, if anything he'd expected her to blab, to say she was trying to bribe him; money or drugs in exchange to keep his secret that she'd somehow uncovered. But there was no mention of that, and it had in truth thrown him completely when she'd revealed that it was her pleasure and not his that she was interested in. Every word had an edge to it, cutting so deeply that it could only be true.

He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, savouring the taste and keeping his breath still and his pale bloodshot eyes fixed on her face while he contemplated what she'd said.

"Personally, I have no objections to your methods,"

"You mean that?"

"If anything, I found it most enjoyable. You were... very... convincing..."

At last, a flush of colour came to Jess's cheeks, and she turned away to hide it. She wiped her fingers just beneath her eye where he'd left the product of his satisfaction on her and then gently sucked the tips of her fingers.

Looking around she spotted something that made her eyes widen in delight. She retrieved her summer dress from the floor, got out of the bed and walked over to an impressive looking stereo system on the far wall, beneath it a selection of CDs were arranged alphabetically and by year of release for each artist.

"May I?" she asked.

"Go ahead…"

He watched her from the bed for the last few moments, watched how she moved ever so slowly and smoothly, picking up and flicking through his collection of music with delicate precision, handling each case with the same reverence and respect that one would hold a religious relic. He admired it, admired every tiny movement for what it was, admired the paleness of her flesh and how it seemed to glow in the moonlight, and he admired how during this time she uttered no sound nor made any attempt to converse with him.

It was while she was away from him that he remembered the syringe.

He couldn't use it on her, not tonight anyway. So to Hell with it, he'd use it on himself, "You know your way out?" he asked her coldly.

"I think so," she wasn't looking at him when she answered; something else had caught her eye.

"Good," his veins seemed to protrude more at the very thought of the sweet heroin that waited for him, "Do me a favour, throw me a tie from that drawer," he pointed in the direction but didn't look up, instead he began salivating.

_You can't change a man, Jess,_ she told herself as she retrieved a particularly nice tie from the drawer and threw it to him, _Don't start thinking that you can..._

Toby didn't even wait till she was out of the room. The needle was already in his vein when she closed the door behind her, so consumed in his own addiction that he hadn't noticed her grab a pen from her bag and scribble something onto a sheet of paper from her notebook, tear out a sheet, fold it and place it on the table beside him.

He certainly did not hear her say goodnight...


End file.
